The Legend of Zelda: Golden Dawn
by Camronius
Summary: A gritty tale of friendship, love, jealousy, betrayal... and revenge.
1. Prologue

**Prologue: The Decline of Hyrule**

The decline of the Kingdom of Hyrule into dissolution didn't happen overnight. The Golden Land of the Goddesses had for so long been blessed with prosperity and peace that its inhabitants began to take their fortunes for granted. The benevolent king, who sought not for power nor control, proved inexperienced and inadequate to reverse the disintegration of his realm. The rivalries and prejudice of his client states, the Zora and Goron nations, spiraled out of control to bitter strife, trade wars, border disputes, and eventually bloodshed. Both had come under the rule of a proud and nationalistic leader who wanted nothing to do with the other race, and certainly nothing to do with the hegemonic influence of Hyrule.

When these relationships broke down to hostilities, it became evident that the king of Hyrule was unable to stop the Zoran and Goron aggressions and the citizens of Hyrule turned to anyone who could offer them safety and chance of retaliation. The Barons, the provincial governors, filled the vacuum left by their king. By promising protection for military service, the barons installed a feudal system and became incredibly powerful. Though mostly working independently of each other, the barons not only were able to repel the Zora and Goron forces from Hylian lands, but also subdue and seal them away in their own domains by means of a magic barrier.

At the end of the Zora-Goron War, the king of Hyrule feared that the barons would not easily relinquish their new found power nor disband their armies. These worries were confirmed when the barons began to dispute among themselves about territory gained from the vanquished creatures. Negotiations failed, royal edicts were ignored, and feuds became bloody. Why should these barons and their brave men, who had fought so many victorious battles, give in to another province? And with what will the impotent king enforce his decrees? Such notions dragged Hyrule into civil war, each baron with his armies vying for dominion of what each believed was rightfully theirs.

Although intolerant of each other, the barons could agree on one thing – the king had to be deposed. On Friday the 13th, the king, whose health had been failing, awoke to see all seven baron armies amassing on the fields outside the walls of Castle Town, thus forever marking that day as a very unlucky one. An agreement was made that the king would surrender himself on the morrow if the barons promised to not harm the castle personnel or the people of Castle Town. That night the king suffered a stroke and died. The next day, when the seven barons came to retrieve the aged king, they found him lying in state in the Great Hall. A sudden realization dawned on them all – the throne was up for grabs.

A melee ensued. The barons wrestled, grabbed, and pulled each other as they raced to mobilize their armies and overtake the gaping, defenseless Hyrule Castle – the symbol of dominance. The slaughter that followed was immense. All hell broke loose on the fields when the barons gave the order to advance as the seven armies fought each other to gain the entrance. The bodies of their dead filled the moat around Castle Town so that the water flooded the plains, turning fertile pastures into a swampy, bloody mire. Once inside the walls of the city, and contrary to the agreement, Castle Town was sacked and its inhabitants were massacred in the fray. Hyrule Castle, being built on the bluffs overlooking the massive Lake Hylia, was a formidable monolith. With only one side for land forces to advance from, the narrowing path made it difficult for the warring factions to progress upwards to its gates.

The Sheikah, the guardians of the Royal Bloodline since days of antiquity, evacuated the remaining castle servants through the tunnels and caverns beneath the edifice to small boats awaiting to take them to safety. With no Royal family to protect – the king being a widower and not having any children – the Sheikah made a solemn oath to protect the king's body from desecration. After they had closed and locked every entrance to the castle, the Sheikah sealed themselves in by casting an incantation on each door leading to the outside. By spilling their own blood in the ritual, they ensured that only someone of the same blood, Sheikah blood, could unlock their barrier and gain access to the castle. Hyrule Castle, which the Sheikah had so valiantly defended for generations, now became their tomb.

When the wearied and decimated troops of the barons finally made it up to the castle entrance, they found the draw bridge pulled up with the Sheikah's Weeping Eye emblazoned on it, as if painted with blood. Discovering the prize they had fought so brutally for to be impossible to achieve, a demoralizing spirit swept through all the men. An uneasy truce settled upon the baron armies as they trudged away, passing the mounds of their countless dead, each baron leading a disheartened procession of broken men. The barons withdrew to their own lands, the castle survivors drifted away, Hyrule Castle was inaccessible, the last of the Sheikah consigned themselves to death within its walls, and the Royal Bloodline came to an end. The Hylian Dark Ages had begun.

**The Dark Ages**

The Hylian Dark Ages was a period of Hyrule Historia where there was no centralized power, government, or authority, with Hyrule being divided into seven different factions. The socio-economic system of the time was feudalism. Barons, lords, and dukes reigned over their provinces and lands, each promising their subjects safety and security in exchange for military service. A never ending power struggle was waged between the competing rulers. Political alliances were forged and broken continually. None were powerful enough to overtake the others and none were too weak to be overcome. Thieves and bandits infested the borders of the land, thus interprovincial highways went unkempt and commercial intercourse between the provinces halted. These factors only made the people rely more heavily on their feudal lords for protection. Art and literature declined, technology regressed, only the nobles were taught in the ways of magic, and people had shorter life spans. With such devastation wrought upon the land of Hyrule (for it was no longer known as a kingdom), its international allies suffered and became weak as well. A new power rose in the east; beyond the mountainous ranges, endless plains, profound canyons, and eternal deserts, the Gerudo were emerging as the dominant geo-political force of the world. Hyrule's loss was their gain, easily conquering and annexing Hyrule's former allies, partners, and client states the Gerudo expanded their empire right to the steps of Hyrule itself.

It is important to note that the Hylian people of this age held within their hearts a desperate hope – that a hero will rise to unite Hyrule once more. Although the old legends of a courageous knight and a wise princess were derided as children's stories by the people at large, it was not uncommon for the nobles to name their firstborn son or daughter Link and Zelda, respectively. Whether these children had any drop of legendary or royal blood in them was irrelevant; the people secretly and earnestly looked forward to their saviors, and many hoped it would be their own child.

Thus three-hundred years passed since the death of the last Hylian king and the splintering of the kingdom. The land of Hyrule was in perpetual turmoil and strife, the Gerudo Empire began making incursions into the borderlands, and the people steadfastly awaited a hero. And we begin our story…

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**Hello and welcome all who have made it this far, who have embarked on this journey with me!**

**Just a couple of things to point out, principally that this is my first fanfic piece so if it seems choppy with the chapter titles, headings, pictures, and all the idiosyncrasies of our chosen medium (i.e. ), please be patient with me as I learn the features. I might have to redo this a couple times, so if you like the story then click to Follow me and you'll be in on all the updates I do.**

**Something else to consider is that I am in law school so if updates are slow in coming you'll know that it's not from boredom of this story. Also, if it seems like this prologue was just exposition, that's because my mind works in exposition much better and faster than it does in narrative. In fact, I basically have the entire storyline complete in my head and almost half outlined, but putting it in a novel format so it's entertaining for a reader is always a challenge for me. So when you read my forthcoming chapters, please review and let me know what you think I need to improve.**

**Thank you all and I look forward to your review!**


	2. Chapter 1 - Andawine Ierre

Chapter I – Andawine Ierre

The boy's earliest memories are of the color green – the forest was his refuge, his playground, his kingdom. He loved basking in the quiet solace of the trees, sleeping in their branches, and terrorizing the critters that lived there as only a 6-year old does. He'd come to learn to forage for berries and drink the cool spring water of the gurgling brooks. The woods outside town would be his escape for hours. After all, when there's not much to do at home a little boy gets bored and needs the freedom of the limitless outdoors.

Another one of the earliest memories the boy had also pertained to the color green. The only recollection the boy had of his father was of a dark silhouette exiting the threshold of their hovel, never to be seen again. Although almost every detail of this memory was blurred, the one thing that always stuck with the boy was that his father (he knew it had to be his father) was wearing a green Phrygian cap.

The significance of the boy's attention to _this_ particular detail is not to be understated. You see, in the boy's culture, a green Phrygian cap was the symbol of a freeman. Unlike the common peasantry that made up the vast majority of the citizens in his province – who all were indentured servants to the baron for protection and support – a freeman was bound to no man.

Regardless of the symbolism of liberty of the green Phrygian cap, its status had done little to elevate the boy's indignant circumstances. He was poor. He may have been young, but even he wasn't ignorant of the fact he didn't have a lot. His mother had to scrimp and save to eke out a daily subsistence for her and the boy. Even as the foremost apothecary in their town, there were still some days where they didn't have anything to eat. This was another reason why the boy withdrew to the woods so frequently, so he could find some food for them both.

One morning, as the sun was already well into its routine, the boy awoke to the sound and smell of sizzling bacon. Immediately his mouth began to water and his stomach growled in yearning. He cracked open his droopy eyes to see his mother cooking on the open fire they had in the middle of their hut. Their one-room dwelling was starting to fill with smoke as the sunlight filtered in through the flaps on the door and windows. His mother turned when she heard his stomach and the boy roll over in bed.

"Good morning sleepy-head," she cooed. She smiled as she noticed the boy's vision went past her to the ancient cast iron skillet she was holding over the fire. "Surprise! Bacon for breakfast! It's been a while since we've had something this decadent, hasn't it?" Seeing the confusion in the boy's face she smiled again, turned to attend to the frying bacon, and started to explain. "The farmer Æthelfrith came by earlier this morning with his pregnant goat. The poor thing was having a terrible time giving birth. But the herbs were able to save her and her little ones. I'm surprised you were able to sleep through all that racket." She looked over her shoulder and gave her son a wry look and a wink. "Anyway, Æthelfrith was so grateful he paid for the treatment with a handful of salted bacon strips. I said it was more than I deserved for such a simple procedure but…"

The boy started to tune his mother out. She was always so modest it was annoying. Sometimes he wondered, if their situation was so bad, why she didn't accept more help that people seemed willing to give? Did she like to by poor?

He began to study his mother more closely. Although she appeared homely and plain, she did have some subtle, yet beautiful features. Her hair was in the usual fashion for their province, long and braided down the back. She wore a long sleeve undershirt and a dirty dress that stopped just above her ankles, cinched at the waist with a long, simple belt, and bare feet. The boy really didn't know much about his mother's past. Who had she been to have married a hero like his father? Could she be of noble blood? Nobles are known to be stubborn after all, or at least that what he's been told. He started to imagine his mother in a long, white flowing gown being swooped up in the arms of a green-clad knight and riding off into the..

"Sweetheart? Are you even listening?" his mother's voice came into focus.

"Huh?" the boy blinked and became aware his mother was talking to him. "I'm sorry mom. What were you saying?" the boy replied. He suddenly noticed his mother was handing him two slabs of bacon. How could he have not realized that? He quickly threw the blankets off him, sat up in bed, and swiped the bacon from the patter his mother was extending to him. He opened wide and was about to sink his teeth into both warm, crispy bacon strips at once when his mother's voice caught his attention again.

"Sweetheart!" she said with a smirk pulling at her lips. He blinked and looked at her again. She now had his full attention. "You're not paying attention again. I was asking if you would say the thanks."

"Oh."

The "thanks" was a saying of gratitude to the Goddess Hylia. They always did it before they indulged in anything. According to his mother, all blessings came from the Goddess and it was their duty to recognize this before partaking of it. The boy didn't understand it but he didn't question it either. He said the thanks and the two of them enjoyed their rare feast of bacon and porridge.

"Honey, before you leave today," his mother said as he pulled on his brown tunic and laced up the leather straps of his boots up to his knees, eager for a day of exploring in the woods, "I need to give you an assignment. Oswald has an appointment tomorrow and I need you to pick some herbs." She knew that she needed to give him this errand a day in advance, because once he left for the forest in the morning he didn't come back until dusk.

"Sure mom. No problem," he responded. It truly was no problem. He loved his mother and did everything she asked of him, so long as it wasn't to come home sooner than he wanted. He committed the list of herbs to memory (for he couldn't read), kissed his mom goodbye, and was out the door. So intent was he on making it to the forest that he didn't notice that there was quite a disturbance going on in town. But so unobservant was he by nature and so close was their shanty to the edge of town that his attention was immediately called to the woods. He darted out his front threshold, sprinted across the neighbor's fields towards the bordering tree-line, and was gone.

His mother stood at the entryway and watched her little boy go, his 6-year old legs pumping with energy. She smiled to herself and sighed. Apart from his green eyes, which everyone says he got from her, the boy was a spitting image of his father. It seemed like forever that she had been alone, yet it felt like yesterday that he left. How she missed him…

She shook her head to clear her thoughts and tried to focus on something else; she didn't like dwelling on past pains. At that moment there was a commotion near her. She looked up to see her brother, the baron's captain-of-the-guard, riding up to the communal ledger, a large pole stuck in the ground where the baron posted announcements. The boy's mother thought this was extremely inefficient, seeing as how most of the people in town were illiterate.

"Sir Thrane! What hails?" she called to her brother.

"Sister," the large, bearded man said in greeting as he dismounted from his horse. "The baron's son is missing."

"What? When?"

"This morning he was reported missing. The little brat must've run off sometime during the night."

"He ran away? Are you sure?" the boy's mother asked. Not that it was too hard to believe, but the alternative, she thought, could be that the baron himself had killed his boy and is now saying he's mysteriously gone. The baron's reputation of abuse made that quite plausible.

"Absolutely," Sir Thrane confirmed. "One of the cooks confessed to be an accomplice by supplying the lad with some food." Sir Thrane omitted the fact that the cook only admitted it under severe duress. "After he confessed, my liege ordered the despicable wretch to be beheaded, and if it weren't for the intervention of the baron's wife, he certainly would have been."

"Oh my," the boy's mother gasped quietly.

Sir Thrane took a few long strides to the communal ledger where his men were hammering a poster to it with a heavy nail. When they were done they took a step back to make room for their captain. Sir Thrane lifted his voice to address the crowd that had gathered. "Let it be spread abroad, the only son of our sovereign protector, Lord Torn Ierre – long may he rule – is missing. Whoever assists in the return of the baron's boy shall be rewarded handsomely. And whoever is found to be aiding and abetting the fugitive rascal shall be punished accordingly. Goddess save the baron!" Sir Thrane announced as he roughly mounted his horse, kicked it sharply in its flanks, and galloped away with his entourage of soldiers.

The boy's mother looked back over her shoulder to the farm fields lined with the dark green trees of the forest, the forest where her little boy was now beyond her power to contact. The baron was known to be a very coarse man and anyone who crossed him the wrong way, even if it was a sincere accident, usually paid for it with their life. She didn't criticize him for it however. In such a hostile country such as theirs barons needed to be men of strength, leaders to be respected and feared. But she felt truly sorry for the baron's boy to grow up in such a setting. She was suddenly worried for her own son. She said a prayer to the goddess to keep him safe.

* * *

The boy wandered aimlessly through the woods in complete euphoria. Having already completed his mother's task, he pleasured himself by swinging through the tree branches, snacking on berries and nuts, and feeling at one with the forest. It was long though that he began to hear barking and snarling. Although he knew wolves existed in these parts, he had yet to see one. Staying hidden in the trees he approached cautiously and quietly. Eventually he caught a glimpse of the scene. A group of five rough-looking kids, the oldest of the bunch not more than a few years older than him, with dirty, tattered clothes were standing around a tree with their barking and snarling at something in the tree. In the tree, caught like a stranded cat, was another boy. This one was clearly better dressed than all of them, but he too looked like he'd been through a fight. He had a black eye, a cut on his cheek, and his clothes were ripped too.

"I'm tellin' ya," The tallest boy on the ground was saying, "If you just give us back our stuff, we swears you can go on your way."

"Come down here and take your beatings like spoiled rich kid you are!" one of his younger companions shouted, brandishing his fists.

"Screw you, you bandits! You steal from us all the time!" the trapped boy in the tree cursed back.

"Desmond, shut up! I'm the one talkin'" the older boy said to his companion and boxed the ears of younger kid named Desmond. He squealed in pain, but the others just laughed.

"That'll teach ya not to speak out ya littl' mut" one of the boys said.

Observing all this, the young boy in the tree determined to intervene. He looked in his pouch and saw he had more than enough deku nuts and seeds to deal with the bandits. His only concern was the three dogs. He formulated a plan and stealthy moved in.

"We'll give ya to the count of three to come down, then we're comin' up!" the older boy shouted. "One…. Two…."

_BANG!_ A loud crack rang through the trees accompanied by a blinding flash. With the tormentors stunned by the deku nut, the boy quickly shot dogs with his slingshot, making them yelp and run away. He then jumped from the branches above and dropped right on top of the tallest boy, clearly the leader of the gang. He heard a crack as they hit the ground and he rolled away. He got up and plowed the second largest boy in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. The other three brandished deku sticks and slingshots of their own, but by this time the rich kid had dropped from his tree too and surprised his attackers.

Although he started off with the upper hand, the boy and the rich kid were outnumbered and outmatched by the bandits. The fight went poorly and eventually the older bandits backed the two up to the tree. The rich kid was holding a deku stick like a bat and the boy had his slingshot loaded with his last bullet. Four of the bandits closed in on the corned duo. The leader of the gang finally staggered to his feet after being landed on. He was winching and holding his shoulder, which definitely looked broken.

"You littl' bastard!" he bellowed. "Who do ya think ya are? We gonna kill you!"

The rich kid moved first. He threw his stick high into the air at the braches overhead. Everyone followed its trajectory, wondering what he was thinking. Then it became clear when the stick hit its target: a hornet's nest. The stick broke it in two and both halves fell to the ground right behind the bandits.

"Run!" the rich kid yelled and grabbed the sleeve of his new partner as they escaped in the ensuing chaos.

After sprinting through the underbrush for a few minutes, the duo paused to catch their breath and make sure they had eluded the bandits. Panting and holding his side, the boy was satisfied they were free. Suddenly his companion started to laugh.

"Did you see their faces? Those chumps!"

"Why were you chased up that tree?" he asked the rich kid.

"They're bandits. I gave them a taste of their own medicine," he responded wiping his forehead with the back of his hand and opening a satchel to produce a loaf of bread and a bottle of wine. "And now, to celebrate!"

The boy didn't know what to say. "Here," the rich kid said, breaking off a piece and handing it to him. "Thanks for your help," he said taking a big bite. "What are you doing out here?" he asked through a mouth full of bread.

"My mother's an apothecary in town. I come out here every day to collect herbs," was the boy's reply.

After the victory meal the two boys played in the woods for the rest of the morning. To them, nothing else mattered. They each had found a friend in the other. It was well into the afternoon when they heard the sound of dogs again. Lots of them.

"Uh oh," the rich boy said.

"More bandits?" the other asked?

"Worse," came the reply. It looked as though the rich boy's face went completely white. He stood rooted in place and began to tremble. "My father."

Suddenly a gang of hunting hound burst onto the scene followed by riders on horseback. The commotion they all cased was truly terrifying and the boys shuttered. The group of hunters reared their horses just before they trampled the boys. The big rider in the front dismounted heavily and stood looking at them for a while. The boy recognized him as his uncle. "We've been looking for you, you little brat," Sir Thrane growled lowly.

"I'm not going back," the rich kid said defiantly.

"Your compliance isn't a factor," the burly man shot back. "Bag him," he ordered. Several soldiers immediately dismounted and advanced on them. The boy stepped in front of them to defend his friend, but he was greeted by a swift backhand that made his vision swirl. When he finally got back up the scuffle was over and his new friend was tied up on Sir Thrane's saddle. "Let's move!" he said and all the riders took off. Sir Thrane was the last to leave. He stayed glaring at the boy. "Get back to your mother boy," he said, and then kicked his horse in the flank.

"Wait! I don't even know your name!" the boy called out.

"Win! Andawine Ierre! The baron's son!" the rich boy shouted back as the horse he was on galloped away through the forest.

The boy stood in silence for a while massaging his face where he had been struck. Eventually he resolved that it was late enough to be headed home. His mother was cooking some beans in the same cast iron skillet she used that morning's breakfast when he entered their dirt floor hovel. It was the only skillet they had.

"Hey sweetheart, how was your day?" his mother's beautiful voice asked. But the boy didn't hear it, he was deep in thought.

"Honey!" she said a little louder, this time getting his attention. He turned to her and she saw he was hurt. "What happened?" she asked, voice full of concern.

"It's nothing mom, don't worry," the boy said. "I met a new friend today!"

"Oh? And who might that be?" she asked, already dreading she knew the answer.

"He said his name was Win. The baron's son." His mother cringed but he didn't notice. She told her all about his adventures of the day. It was hard for her to really understand which parts were real and which parts were his imagination. Bandits, werewolves, swarms of angry hornets, it sounded like quite the action-packed day. Where did he come up with all this, she thought to herself?

When it was time for bed, she remembered the answer. "The stories!" the boy called from his little bed. He had wrapped himself up like a cocoon in the scraps of fabric that made up his blankets and sheets that only his blonde head stuck out. "The stories!" he called again excited.

Every night his mother would pull down a big, old, worn book from the shelf and read from it until he fell asleep. This was his favorite time of the day. The book contained the legends of Hyrule, their land. Its pages were filled with vivid tales of courageous knights, evil lords, and wise princesses. The boy loved listening to his mother read the stories. He closed his eyes and his mind filled with images of magical swords, beautiful maidens, and green-clad heroes.

"Good night my love," his mother whispered as she kissed his forehead. He was already sound asleep. "My dear Link."

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**Author's Note**

Welcome back!

This might be an unorthodox story. First, it takes place in an alternate universe from any of the games and main story lines. Second, Some chapters might be fully fleshed out like this one, and others might just be skeletal outlines of the main points. I decided to do it this way because it's the only way I'll get this story done-by telling myself I don't have to write out every chapter like this one.

Main takeaways from this chapter:

Link is the boy. He is 6 years old when we meet him. His mother is an apothecary. Link's father is nowhere to be found. They are very poor and they live under the rule of a warlord named Torn Ierre (extra bonus points and a shoutout will go toward the reader who can correctly identify which historic people are my inspiration for Link's hometown). Link's uncle, Sir Thrane, is Lord Ierre's chief captain of the guard. Sir Thrane hates young boys. Lord Ierre has a son named Andawine who is Link's same age. He goes by Win. Lord Ierre beats his son routinely. On this occasion, Win decided he had enough and ran away during the night. Link meets him in the woods and they become best friends.

I'm a firm believer in "Show me, don't tell me," but I'm also not a very good writer and I don't have time to fully flesh out each chapter with all the detail I'd like. So, there you go.


	3. Chapter 2 - A Death in the Family

**Author's Note**:

This chapter is going to be more of an outline, or mental dump, rather than a narrative. As mentioned before, I don't have the time, patience, or talent to flesh-out all the details of my story and this is the only way I told myself I could to publish it all.

* * *

Link, as introduced last chapter, is a 6-year old boy of a very poor single mother. When wandering in the forest near his house he befriends Andawine Ierre. Link and Win, as he is known, become best friends and play together often in the forests surrounding their town, Deira. Win is the son of the feudal baron of Deira, Lord Torn Ierre. The land of Hyrule has been splintered and feudal lords war constantly for more land and territory. Deira is one of the largest domains in Hyrule, making Lord Torn a powerful man.

Deira and the castle on top of the hill in the center of town did not have any of the glitz or glamour of romantic medieval tales. This was a dark time and technology was primitive. The castle, if it can be called that, was a large and imposing hill fort. A tall, solid wall of earth, stone, and hewn timber surrounded the entire summit of the hill, attesting to the formidable power of Win's father. The vast majority of residents of Deira were peasants, like Link and his mother, who slaved away for a meager living and hopefully survived until the next harvest season.

Death by starvation, disease, natural disasters, or raiding Gerudo was very common for the people of Deira. Being situated on the ocean where the mighty Zora River emptied into the sea, Deira was on the very edge of the map of Hyrule. Its geography made it ideal for traders, merchants, and pirates. The Gerudo Empire, whose power had been expanding in the east, was starting to butt against Hyrule and, consequently, Deira.

Being a large and ruthless man, Lord Torn was able to project the necessary power to make the Gerudo think twice about invading. Lord Torn had three great loves: his wife, his horse, and his bottle. It was said that his wife was the most beautiful woman in all the land and he had given her an equally beautiful silver mirror as an engagement present. The mirror was very expensive and was also of great sentimental value. Despite his tyrannical and brutal tendencies, she was truly a moderating influence on him. Torn's second great love was his horse and everything that accompanied it - his soldiers, his sword, the glory of battle, etc. Lastly, Torn had a drinking problem. Nowhere in his heart was there space for his son Win, whom he beat and belittled frequently. Again, Win's mother played a moderating influence on his father and often soothed her frightened and abused son. Such was the occasion when Win decided to run away and when he met Link in the woods.

Lord Torn's most trusted commander was the brother of Link's mother, Sir Thrane. Sir Thrane was also a large and burly knight. He had been married only once for a short time to the sister of Lord Torn's wife. Thus, Win, through the marriage of his aunt and Sir Thrane, was a cousin of Link. The two did not know this at the time of their meeting and only realized it after years of being friends.

* * *

Link and Win met when they're both 6 years old and become unlikely, but best, friends. The two boys play together almost every day for two years. Their blissful childhood abruptly and tragically came to an end when a plague, so prevalent in those dark times, swept through Deira just as winter was setting in. Making no distinction between nobility or peasantry, the plague killed indiscriminately. Both Link's mother and Win's mother fell ill and passed away.

Before her death, Link's mother made her brother, Sir Thrane, swear to adopt Link as his squire. Having very little affection for the boy, Sir Thrane reluctantly agrees because of the wishes of his dying sister. Then, as per custom and precaution, her corpse and all her belongings were burned. Link was only able to save the book of stories his mother read him at night.

With tears streaking down his cheeks, Link followed Sir Thrane (who rode on his horse) through the snowy dusk up to the castle. When he arrived, Link learned that Win's mother had also just passed away. Link tried to comfort his friend at the side of his mother's bed. In his grief and anger, Win grabbed his mother's silver mirror of the nightstand next to her bed, and threw it across the room. It hit the wall and smashed into millions of tiny shards.

Hearing the commotion, Lord Torn stumbled, drunk, into the room to see what the disturbance is. With an almost empty bottle in his hand and eyes red and bleary from weeping and drinking, he sees the two boys... and the broken mirror. His countenance immediately shifts from grief-stricken to pure rage. He lunges at his son, who tries to run but fails. Lord Torn grabs Win by his throat and began to mercilessly beat him.

"You miserable little wretch!" Lord Torn bellows at his son. "You worthless piece of flesh! You bring me no pride! No honor! You are nothing more than a pathetic disappointment! And now you broke my wife's mirror! I DISOWN YOU! I DISOWN YOU AND I'LL KILL YOU!"

"My Lord! It was me, my lord! Please listen!" Link shouted, trying to wrap his skinny little arms around Torn's massive arm. Holding Win by the neck with his left hand and pounding his face with his right, Lord Torn stopped the beating and looked at Link.

"What?" he demanded. Win, whose face was bleeding and bruised and whose feet dangled in the air, looked at his friend in horror. "You did _what_?" Lord Torn demanded again.

Link swallowed. "I broke m'lady's mirror. It was me, not your son," Link lied. "Please, don't hurt him. He had nothing to do with it."

"You?" Lord Torn blinked. "_YOU?!_" he roared. He released Win, who dropped and crumpled to the floor gasping for breath. "YOU LITTLE BASTARD!" Torn yelled, rounding on Link like a bear, spittle flying from his mouth and clinging to his beard.

"My lord!" a deep voice from the doorway rang loudly. It was Sir Thrane. The commotion had caused him to come see what the disturbance was. Everyone stopped in their tracks and turned to him. "My lord, before you kill the poor wretch, I must say he is my ward and under my protection."

Torn's eyes narrowed to understand the meaning of Thrane's saying. Sir Thrane continued, "He is the son of my late sister. Before she died she commended him to me to be a squire. I regretfully admit that I am responsible for the boy."

Torn let out a deep, low breath. Before his drunken mind could decide what to do, Sir Thrane offered the solution. "I am responsible for the boy, my lord, on my honor and the honor of my sister's death bed. But I have no love for him. Release him to me and he shall be punished accordingly."

"Fine," was all Lord Torn could manage. "Take him," he hissed.

"Come here boy," Sir Thrane said to Link. Link was frozen to the spot, not knowing what to do. He looked at Win, who was still on his hands and knees massaging his neck. Scared, neither knew what to do.

"DID YOU NOT HERE ME BOY! I SAID MOVE!" Sir Thrane thundered. He grabbed Link by the scruff of his neck, yanked him off his feet, and dragged him out of the chamber. Sir Thrane lugged Link behind him like a rag doll down the hallway and toward the main entrance.

"You stupid little puke," Sir Thrane said as he burst the doors open and they both lumbered into the cold night air. "I save your life and this is how you repay me? _Insubordination_?" he yelled at the helpless boy. "Your father was a wandering swindler who seduced my sister. You are nothing more to me than the bastard son of a dead vagabond and if it weren't for the shackles of my promise to your foolish mother, you'd be dead by now. I suggest you say 'thank you,' you miserable little cur!" They trudged through the snow toward the stables where Link was beaten by the only family he had left. It was the longest night of his short, innocent life.

* * *

Hours after night had silently fallen, a small, dark figure wrapped in a cloak snuck out the castle and limped its way toward the stables. New snow had started to fall and the hooded figure left bloody footprints in the otherwise pristine landscape. When he got to the stables, Win looked around to see if he was in the clear, then he slid into the stable.

It was a cold winter night. Once inside the stable, Win found his companion. Both boys showed signs of being beaten—Link's eye was swollen and he was holding his side. Win had a fat lip, back eye, and he's walking with a limp.

Link was sitting cross-legged with a thin sheet covering his head and body. He was shivering and his young, bloodied face is illuminated by a small fire he managed to build. Tears were streaming down his face and his chin was trembling. And, open on his lap, was his mother's book of stories, the book his mother used to read to him every night before he went to bed. Link was illiterate and couldn't read. The book just sat open, collecting the drops of tears and blood that fell from his cheeks, as he stared into the flames.

"Link, isn't that… your mother's book?" Win asked as he approached with an extra blanket.

Link sniffled. "It's the only thing I have left of her," Link sobbed. "She would read me the tales of the heroes." He tried to smile. "Those were my favorite stories. That she would read to me. I loved hearing her voice. Tell me stories. But… now" Link convulsed, "never again.." the boy whimpered. "She's gone and I…" he was on the verge of breaking down now, "…and I… I can't… read." Link couldn't hold back any longer and he burst into tears.

Win threw his blanket over Link's shoulders and put his arm around him. Link grabbed Win by his shirt and buried his sobbing face into Win's chest.

"I'll teach you," Win comforted, patting Link's hair. "I'll teach you how to read. You'll be my squire. I'll teach you how to read and write." Win said, feeling a lump grow in his throat as well.

Link's bleary eyes looked up at Win from his chest. "Really?"

"Of course," Win responded. "I'll take care of us," Win promised, holding back his own tears at this point.

"You're the best friend I have, Win."

"You're the only friend I have, Link."

The two boys, who, through a series of fateful events, were suddenly mature beyond their age, embraced each other and wept.

* * *

**Author's Note**_:_

I must give credit to Filip Storch of .comfor the amazing artwork that I used as the story's thumbnail. For those who guessed, I appropriated the image "Stream in the valley" to depict Link's mother waiting for her beloved to return. Please visit his site for more inspiration for this story.

Lastly, I have two kinds of ideas: some good ideas that are unoriginal, and some bad ideas that are original. Extra bonus points and a shoutout will go toward the reader who can correctly identify the inspirations for different elements of my story.


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